


Higher, Higher

by Sweeticing



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol, Denial of Feelings, High School, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweeticing/pseuds/Sweeticing
Summary: Bebe tries to use a love potion on Kyle, but the plan goes wrong when the potion makes him fall for Cartman instead. Good thing Cartman hasn't been pining for Kyle for eight years or anything crazy like that.





	1. Worm Guts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! This was a story idea I was playing around with recently and wanted to share. So many crazy things happen in South Park, I figured a love potion wouldn't be that out of place. Unfortunately I can't commit to a steady update schedule at the moment. Enjoy!

It was nearing eight on a dark, stormy night when Bebe started brewing her love potion. She'd checked the weather report earlier to make sure there would be the right atmosphere. Madame Amour didn't state outright on her website (www.madameamourslovepotionsandspells.blogspot.com) that environmental conditions would effect the potion, but things like this tended to rely on ambiance in the movies, and considering this was her first time brewing it seemed safest to stick with what was tried and true.

She had really done her homework on this project. She wanted everything to be perfect. If all went well, she'd be on Kyle's arm at the next party, and maybe even junior prom. She and Wendy would finally have a matching set of boyfriends, and if going steady meant an end to all those rumors about her promiscuity, that was the icing on the cake. Plus it was a lot of goddamn fun to play witch. She lit another bundle of sage.

Someone banged on her door.

“Bebe! What's that smell? Are you smoking pot again, young lady? You just wait until your father gets home!”

“I'm practicing the dark arts, Mom!” Bebe said. “God, just leave me alone!”

“Well, I'm sure he'll have a lot to say about that, too!” Bebe's mom sighed. “At least open a window, honey!”

Bebe rolled her eyes but obeyed. A cool breath of stormy air flowed into the bedroom, making the flames on Bebe's ceremonial candles dance. She was glad she'd splurged on them at the dollar store. They were really elevating her witchiness to the next level. She took a deep breath through her nose.

According to Madame Amour, her potion was nearly finished. Crushed rosehips? Check. Salt water? Check. Worm guts (ew)? Check. She scrolled down her phone for the rest of the recipe.

 _Once the potion has been brewed in a cauldron over a wood fire_ (here Bebe had substituted a saucepan and hot plate) _for 27 minutes, remove it from the heat and place it in the sacred circle – click here for a printable copy. Now, to confirm your intent, and form a bond between the brewer and recipient, stir your potion using your Very Important Object, seven times clockwise and three times counterclockwise, while speaking the final chant._

_NOTE: It is of the utmost importance that you only give the potion to your true love. Anyone else and the potion will be ineffective._

Bebe scrolled past that. Kyle was the truest love she had at the moment. She wasn't collecting his hair and writing love poems about the guy but who else was she supposed to give it to? Clyde? She huffed and picked up her Very Important Object – a silver spoon she had 'borrowed' from a display cabinet in Kyle's dining room the last time she was over for tutoring. A Jewish star and Kyle's birthday were engraved on the handle, with a green bead inlaid at the top. It had probably been a gift from a friend or family member when he'd been born. Madame Amour recommended using a Very Important Object “with intimate significance” for the recipient and the spoon fit the bill.

Bebe cleared her throat and read Madame Amour's Passionate Love Chant aloud, stirring.

"My love for you burns like a fire  
This spell, to help you feel desire  
Your heart to mirror mine entire  
Both flame as one, burn higher, higher!”

Immediately the potion bubbled, gave a small cough, and emitted a puff of pink smoke. Bebe squealed in delight and rushed back to her phone. Sure enough, Madame Amour had predicted the reaction.

_Once the spell is complete, take something containing your essence, such as a strand of hair or small amount of saliva, and place it in the cauldron. Your potion will then release a cloud of pink smoke, and is now ready to be bottled and served. For best results, let chill and mix with juice before serving to avoid a bellyache._

Saliva? Yeah, right. Bebe was classier than that. She plucked a single hair from her head and tossed it into the cauldron. The potion didn't bubble further. She hmmed and hawed over it for a second. Wasn't something out of order?

The doorbell rang downstairs.

“Bebe!” her mother shouted. “Wendy is here to pick you up!”

No time to worry it over now. Bebe dipped a travel-sized bottle from Target into her cauldron, popped it into her purse, and pulled her boots on. She rushed downstairs to greet Wendy with a hug and a smile.

Besides, she had a really good feeling about tonight.

 

* * *

 

 

“Here, have another piece,” Kenny said. He practically shoved a chiclet into Kyle's mouth and scanned the area. “Stay minty fresh. She could pop up at any second. You need to be ready.”

“Knock it off, Ken,” Kyle said. He shoved Kenny's hand away. “I don't need it.”

“Just trying to help a bro out,” Kenny said. “A party near Stark's Pond? A slightly chilly night? This is _primetime_ for hook-ups.”

“Shouldn't you be out there trying to get some then?” Kyle said, quirking an eyebrow. He gestured with his beer to the fire-pit Token and Clyde had dug earlier. Most of their classmates were laughing and downing drinks, or leading each other by the hand to a more private spot. Stan had his coat around Wendy's shoulder, cozying up on a log by the fire.

“That's all too much pressure for me,” Kenny said. “I've struck out too many times.” He counted off on his fingers. “Last Friday Annie slapped me for making a comment about her cleavage, then Lola kicked me in the shin, and then Red spit in my face. Can you believe that? Right in my face. Actually, I'm kind of falling for her.” He mouthed 'call me' at Red and she glared at him. “But your thing with Bebe is a sure bet! She's crazy about you, man.”

“That's the problem,” Kyle said. “She puts it on so thick! It feels too fake.”

“I get it,” Kenny rolled his eyes, “you like the wholesome girl-next-door types and you think Bebe wears too much make-up. But what's the harm in hooking up with Bebe once or twice? You'd get some good experience.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Kyle said. He took a sip of his beer and zipped his dark green jacket a little higher. “I don't know. I'll see how the night goes, I guess.”

“Atta boy,” Kenny patted him on the back. “Now go get us a couple more beers! Let's party!”

Kyle shook his head but smiled and headed near the fire. Wendy had brought her dad's old tailgating cooler and filled it with as much Miller High Life as it could hold. He was leaning over to pull a few out for him and Kenny when Bebe sidled up to him.

“Hey, Kyle,” she said, smiling. Kyle winced.

“Oh, hey Bebe,” he said. He gave her a once-over; she did look nice tonight, wearing an awfully low-cut shirt. “Aren't you cold?”

“Sure am,” she said. “Might need some warming up later on.” She peered at him from under her eyelashes.

“Right,” Kyle said. “Anyway, I've gotta go bring these over to Kenny, so--”

“Oh, you're drinking that shit?” Bebe made a face. “Blegh! Here, I made you a mixed drink!”

She pulled out a red solo cup from behind her back. Kyle peered inside. The drink was a bright, suspicious pink. It almost looked neon. Kyle gulped.

“What's in it?” he asked.

“Don't worry about that!” Bebe grinned so wide it looked like it hurt her face. “It's my special recipe. Believe me, you'll _love_ it.” She grabbed the beer from Kyle's hand and thrust the cup towards him. “Just try it!”

“Well,” Kyle said. He glanced back at Kenny, who gave him a firm thumbs-up. “I guess I _am_ getting a little sick of Miller.” Bebe nodded quickly.

“Exactly!” she said. “Go ahead! Drink it.”

Kyle sighed and squinted into the cup again. He swore it was bubbling now. He looked at Bebe's eager face. Stan and Wendy were still canoodling by the fire. What was the harm in having a little fun for himself, like Kenny said? Once he had a few more drinks, he could see himself with a hand up Bebe's skirt and a little more experience under his belt. That wouldn't be so bad.

“Yeah, okay,” Kyle said. “Why not?”

He took a sip of Bebe's drink. Bebe did a subtle fist pump.

It tasted almost-- slimy. Kyle cringed and rolled the feeling around in his mouth. Something was not right. Maybe Bebe's ingredients had gone bad. Then his vision flashed pink and a sharp pain shot through his chest.

“You okay?” Bebe said. She struck a seductive pose and batted her eyelashes. “Feeling anything... different?”

Kyle clutched his belly. Whatever was in that drink, it was sloshing around in his stomach now, and Kyle felt like it was burning his insides. He felt a horrible aching around his heart and nearly keeled over.

“Yeah, uh,” he said, “excuse me for one second.” He ran off still holding his stomach.

“Damn,” Bebe swore under her breath, “I should've chilled it.”

Kyle stumbled to the water's edge and stopped, hands on his knees, nauseous enough he thought he might puke. Kenny came up next to him.

“Dude, what happened?” he said. “Don't tell me you chickened out.”

“No, I-- I don't know,” Kyle said. “I just felt awful. She gave me this drink.”

“Oh yeah,” Kenny said, “she always makes 'em too strong.”

“It wasn't that,” Kyle said, “it was like-- like--”

He froze at the sound of someone laughing off to his left.

“Ky?” Kenny said.

“Sorry,” Kyle said absently. He felt like he was being tugged to the source of that laugh. That familiar laugh. “I have to-- go.” He took off jogging.

“Hey, wait up!” Kenny called and followed suit.

Kyle scanned the area in the dark, eyes flitting around urgently, desperate to find that voice, that person. He knew that person.

“Aw c'mon, Eric, can't I have just one sippa gin?

At the edge of the pathway leading down to the water, Butters was sitting on the ground, leaning against Jimbo's old fishing boat, talking to Cartman. Kyle's stomach dropped.

 _Cartman_.

“No can do, Butters,” Cartman said. He was carving his initials into the boat with his pocket knife, a half-empty bottle of gin by his side. “This is real top-shelf stuff. I heard they have Miller to spare by the fire.”

Never in his life had Kyle felt so angry, so desperate, and so passionate all at once. Just the sight of Cartman was making his blood boil, his palms itch. And the most frustrating part was how much distance was between them. He stomped up to Cartman and glared down at him.

“Get up,” he said. He was seething, his fists trembling.

Cartman looked up at him in surprise.

“Okay, before you say anything,” Cartman said, “Clyde was the one who thought it would be funny to switch out your gym shirt with one of Teresa's crop tops, not me. I just gave him the combination to your locker.”

“Just. Get. Up.”

Kenny caught up with him, panting.

“What's going on?” he wheezed. Butters shrugged, eyes wide.

“Now Kyle,” Cartman said, “is it really worth getting so upset over--”

Kyle charged at him and pushed him up against the nearest tree. Butters grabbed the gin bottle and turned tail toward the fire pit.

“Traitor!” Cartman croaked. “Listen, Kyle, let's just talk this out!”

“Whoah, chill Ky!” Kenny said. “What the hell did you do this time, fat-ass?”

“Nothing!” Cartman said.

“Shut up,” Kyle growled. He leaned in closer and took in the sight of Cartman's face. The soft curve of his jaw. His fussed-over hair. His smooth skin and honey-brown eyes. Kyle breathed in and closed his eyes.

Cartman smelled so, so _good_.

“Are you drunk or what?” Cartman said fearfully. “Hands off!”

“What kind of cologne are you wearing?” Kyle said

“What?”

“Answer the question.” Kyle moved in even closer, breathing down Cartman's neck.

“Funny story about that,” Cartman said. Kyle glared at him so intensely he thought he might set Cartman on fire. He couldn't look away.

“Tell. Me,” Kyle said.

“Er,” Cartman said, “Wonderstruck by Taylor Swift?”

Kyle inhaled deeply through his nose. It wasn't just the perfume. It was something underneath it, some other different smell. Cartman's smell.

“You smell _amazing_ ,” Kyle sighed. Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny all froze.

“Say whaaat?” Kenny said.

Cartman blinked rapidly. Kyle could see the gears in his head turning.

“I have to go,” Kyle said. He let go of Cartman like he'd been burned and stared at his hands. They were still tingling from where they'd touched Cartman's skin. He gave one last long, lingering gaze at Cartman and ran in the opposite direction. Kenny stood next to Cartman with his face slack.

“I swear I didn't do anything,” Cartman said. He watched Kyle go.

Bebe was giggling with Red near the docks when Kyle came up to them, eyes wild.

“Kyle!” Bebe said, shoving Red away. “Feeling better?” Red rolled her eyes and stumbled toward the cooler, flipping Bebe off.

“No,” he said, “Bebe, what the hell did you put in that drink?” He grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Oh, Kyle,” she giggled, “not in public.”

“What? Listen, something very bad is happening to me,” Kyle said. His face was turning green. He thought about Cartman's smirk. “I just tried to--

“Yes?” Bebe said, leaning in.

“I just tried to kiss _Cartman!_ ” Kyle yelled. Bebe gasped.

“Cartman?” Bebe said. “No no no, that can't be right!” She bit her fingernails. “Cartman had nothing to do with my love potion!” She slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Your _what_?” Kyle said. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. You didn't.”

“It was for me,” Bebe said frantically, “it was supposed to make you like me!”

“I-I need to sit down,” Kyle said. He tried to clear his mind but it was full to the brim of thoughts of Cartman, Cartman, _Cartman_. And every time Kyle thought of him, his heart ached over and over. An omnipresent need burning deep in his chest. And now he knew what it was: love. Kyle thought he might cry. He wanted Cartman. He just wanted him. Kyle sunk to his knees, unable to stand any longer.

“I'll go get Stan,” Bebe said and rushed off.

By the time Bebe retrieved Stan, Kenny had caught up with them. He had apparently tracked Butters down and said he'd tell his dad he was out drinking if he didn't drive Cartman home right away. Stan and Kenny helped Kyle into Stan's car and Bebe, the only one sober enough to not wrap them around a tree, drove them to Stan's house. They gathered in his living room.

“Okay,” Stan said, “let's start from the beginning here.” He went up to his bedroom and retrieved an easel, whiteboard, and and dry erase markers and brought them downstairs.

“Aren't you prepared,” Bebe said.

“This ain't our first rodeo,” Kenny said. “Right, Ky?”

“Right, Cartman,” Kyle said. “I mean Eric. I mean, what?"

“So Bebe,” Stan sighed. “You made Kyle drink a love potion.” He drew a heart on the board and a little green square next to it. Beside that he drew an arrow pointing down to the bottom of the board. He took a moment to draw flames and label it HELL, and place a red square with devil horns in the center. “And it made him fall in love with Cartman.”

Kyle stifled a sob.

“It wasn't supposed to make him love Cartman,” Bebe said, “it was supposed to make him love me! Cartman had nothing to do with it.”

“So for once, it isn't Cartman's fault.” Stan drew a question mark next to Cartman's demon square. “So the question is, when did he get involved?”

“I have no idea,” Bebe said. “I followed the recipe perfectly.” She winced. “Well, not perfectly. I mean, I substituted a saucepan for a cauldron. And a hot plate for a wood fire.” Kenny put his head in his hands. “What? It was my first time!”

“Okay,” Stan sighed. “So there's some room for error there.”

“Where did you find this recipe?” Kyle asked urgently. “Online?"

“Yeah,” Bebe said. “Madame Amour's Love Potions and Spells.”

“Sounds legit,” Kenny said. Bebe flipped him off.

“So first things first, we need to read the recipe and figure out what went wrong. And who knows!” Kyle said. “Maybe Madame Fleur--”

“Amour,” Bebe said.

“Madame _Amour_ will have a recipe for the antidote, too!”

“Yeahhh, about that,” Bebe said. The boys looked at her. “She only lists one way to reverse the potion's effects on her website.” She twirled a strand of her hair. “It'll wear off after the pursuer and the recipient, ah. Sleep together.”

Kenny had a coughing fit. Kyle went white as a sheet.

“Jesus Christ,” Stan said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “okay, never bring that up again. We are not-- that's not happening.”

“Wait,” Kyle said, “Bebe said the pursuer and the recipient. Isn't Bebe technically the pursuer? Maybe if we slept together, the spell would wear off!” He looked at Bebe desperately.

“The pursuer is supposed to be the person you fall in love with,” Bebe said, “and whatever happened, it seems like the potion thought that was Cartman. Besides, I'm not sleeping with you while you're in love with someone else. What if you call me Cartman during sex?” She shivered.

“Here're the ingredients,” Kenny said, reading them off his phone. Kyle hovered over his shoulder. “Rosehips, salt water, worm guts?” He raised an eyebrow. Bebe shrugged. “Nothing I'd associate with Cartman. Well, the worm guts maybe.”

“Give me that,” Kyle said. He pulled the phone out of Kenny's hands and scrolled through the rest of the recipe. “Here, the Very Important Item. What did you use? Maybe you used something you thought was mine, but was really Cartman's.”

“No,” Bebe mused, “that baby spoon was definitely yours. I took it from your house less than a week ago.”

“You stole from me?” Kyle asked, incredulous.

“I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think it would turn out like this!” Bebe's eyes watered. “I just wanted to go out on a date with you!”

“Then ask me out like a normal person!” Kyle yelled.

“Did you say baby spoon?” Everyone looked at Kenny, who shrank back. “The one from the display cabinet in Kyle's dining room?”

“Yeah,” Bebe said, “that one. How did you know?”

“Shit,” Kenny said. He rubbed his temples. “Okay. So, on Monday, me and Cartman stopped by your house after school. Remember that, Ky?”

“Yes,” Kyle said. The memory of Cartman in his house made his whole body tense up. “You wanted to see if I could hang out.”

“Where was I?” Stan said.

“Off with Wendy most likely,” Kenny said. “Anyway, you said you couldn't because Bebe was coming over for tutoring and even though I was giving you the green light 'cause I'm all about you getting that nut, Cartman threw a total bitch fit. He went off on this rant about how Bebe was good breeding stock that shouldn't be tainted by Jewish blood. The most un-PC I've heard him get in a while. He got you all riled up and you were having a classic screaming match until your dad came downstairs and told you both to shut the hell up. You stormed up to your room and said if Cartman didn't want a broken nose he'd be out of your house by the time you came back down. So Cartman left. But before he did--” Kenny gave Kyle a sympathetic frown, “--he took your spoon from the display cabinet and licked it. You know. As a kind of petty 'fuck you'.”

“Wow,” Bebe said, “I think that's the longest I've ever heard you talk, Kenny.” Kenny blushed.

“Kenny,” Kyle cried, “how could you let him do that?”

“Shockingly, I didn't foresee this turn of events,” Kenny said. He yawned.

“Don't yawn!” Kyle said. “We need to figure this out!” Stan put a hand on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Kyle, but it's past four,” he said, looking at his phone. “And we did figure it out. We know Cartman licked the spoon, and we know we need to find out how to reverse the potion.”

“Exactly! Which is why we need to contact Madame Amour right now!” Kyle said.

“Not even someone who writes a witch blog is gonna be awake at four in the morning,” Bebe said.

“You guys can crash here,” Stan said. “I'll get the air mattress we have upstairs.”

Kyle stared in horror as Bebe, Kenny, and Stan got busy finding blankets and pillows.

“No,” Kyle begged, “come on guys, please!”

“Sorry, Ky,” Kenny said, squeezing his arm. “We need to sleep off the booze. But don't worry, okay? We'll figure it out tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll keep Cartman as far away from you as possible.”

Stan went up to bed. Bebe curled up on the couch with Stan's fluffiest blanket. Kyle and Kenny lay head-to-foot on the air mattress. Long after Bebe and Kenny had fallen asleep, Kyle stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts of Cartman still fluttered through his mind. How funny he was, how much he fussed over his appearance, how good his maroon hoodie looked on him. How much Kyle wanted to be lying on his chest, breathing in his smell, feeling his warm body. Kyle clutched his blanket around himself and hoped Kenny wouldn't keep true to his word.

 


	2. I'll Be There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starring Bebe Stevens, M.D., Stan's fragile ego, and Kenny as Mr. Manager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start this chapter off with a HUGE thank you to all my readers, especially those of you who commented. The response to this fic has been amazing and so inspiring! I hope this story will continue to give you a nice break from reality, because who doesn't need that.
> 
> When they're texting, Kyle = bold text, Cartman = italics. Sorry if it's hard to read; I might try to change the formatting on that later.

 Stan sneezed as he pulled yet another chemistry book off the shelf and added it to the growing pile in his arms. He was supposed to be collecting every book in the Park County library with the word “potion” in the title. So far he'd found thirty of them. His arms were already aching.

He walked through the stacks and dropped his pile on the table Bebe had commandeered for their research. She was currently poring over _The Love Potion Cookbook_ , having just scanned _Lotions & Potions For Improved Fornication_. She seemed to be enjoying both. Stan rubbed at his eyes and sighed.

“Look at this, Stan,” Bebe said. “The effects of a love potion can last from months to years, the duration of which is often determined by the freshness of the ingredients. Isn't that fascinating?” 

“Putting aside the fact that you just said Kyle being in love with Cartman for years would be fascinating,” Stan gagged, “how do we know any of this is credible, like, at all? I got that book from the fantasy aisle.”

“Always such a skeptic,” Bebe said. “If none of this is real, how do you think my love potion worked on Kyle?”

“I don't know,” Stan said. “The placebo effect?” Bebe snorted.

“If that's the placebo effect,” she said, “he's got some other issues he needs to address.”

It was true Kyle hadn't been in the best shape earlier this morning. When Stan had come downstairs for breakfast, he'd found the kitchen strewn with stray pieces of paper and Kyle frantically scrawling note after note, only to tear each one up and toss it behind him. Stan had made the mistake of reading one:

_Dear Madame Amour,_

_My name is Kyle and I recently came under the effect of one of your love potions. It has made me enamored with a classmate of mine, Eric Cartman. Eric has sweet, chocolate brown eyes, and a winning smile. When he walks into a room, it's like a welcome beam of light shining on my soul, happiness caressing my--_

In light of Kyle's handicap, Bebe had taken the liberty of drafting a message to Madame Amour. They'd sent it via her “Contact me! :)” page and waited for a response without any luck. After an hour they'd driven Kyle home and put him to bed, dropped Kenny off at work, and made their way to the library to do research. Bebe had insisted they go to the actual library, not just search online, in case Park County was hiding any “dusty tomes” or “ancient texts”. So far they'd found neither;  _The Love Potion Cookbook_ was published in 2003.

“According to this,” Bebe said, “worm guts are an important part of any love potion, but the type of attraction it will enhance varies based on the type of worm used. Crazy!”

“It pisses me off how into this you're getting,” Stan said.

“What did you expect?” Bebe said. She flipped her hair back. “I _am_ a successful witch, after all.”

“I just wish you'd take it a little more seriously,” Stan said.

“I am taking it seriously!” Bebe said. She stuck her nose a little further in her book. “I know I fucked up, okay? I'll make up for it. I'm taking notes, see?” Stan skimmed over her notes. The liberal use of pink highlighter hurt his eyes.

“I talked to Wendy about you and Kyle,” Stan said.

“Did you?” Bebe said.

“She told me you aren't even that interested in him,” Stan said. Bebe rolled her eyes.

“Like Wendy would know,” she said.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Bebe said, “except that she's been so busy going on dates with you she can barely give me the time of day any more.”

“That's not true,” Stan said.

“Where are you going after this?” Bebe said. Stan winced.

“Me and Wendy had plans to meet at Cafe Monet."

“Mmhm.”

“We always go out for dinner on Sundays!”

“I'm not trying to get on your case, Stan,” Bebe said, “I just don't want me and Wendy to end up like you and Kyle, that's all.”

“What's wrong with me and Kyle?” Stan said, wounded.

“You know,” Bebe said, “you're has-been best friends. Best friends who say they do everything together but haven't hung out in weeks.”

“What are you talking about?” Stan said. “Me and Kyle just hung out yesterday.” Bebe scoffed.

“At the party,” she said. “How about one-on-one?” Stan scratched the back of his neck. “Do you even know if he likes anyone? What college he wants to go to? What position he plays on the basketball team?”

“I-- er, point guard?” Stan said.

“Lucky guess,” Bebe said, “and the fact that you had to say it like a question proves my point. For all you know he was in love with Cartman long before I spiked his drink.” Stan blanched. Bebe shut _The Love Potion Cookbook_ and studied the stack of books beside her. “Did you find _Beauty Potions For Bitchy Witches_?”

 

* * *

 

In Cartman's opinion, Bijou Cinema should've been condemned years ago. Take one brick out of the wall and the whole thing looked like it would come tumbling down like a game of Jenga. While he was on shift, Cartman wished it would. A broken neck didn't sound so bad if it came with generous worker's comp. He glared at the soda cup Kenny had put on the counter to catch the water leaking from the ceiling and sunk his hand into the popcorn machine. Beside him, Butters rambled on about the difficulties of unclogging the ladies's room toilets.

“I flushed it one time and water started sprayin' everywhere!” Butters said. He wrung his hands together. “Actually, it's still sprayin' all over the place. I was thinkin', you could come take a look--”

“Wow, I'd love to Butters,” Cartman said through a mouthful of popcorn, “but I'm _super_ busy here. Besides, that sounds like a problem for our shift manager.”

“You rang?” Kenny said. He walked up to the counter and leaned on his elbow, flashing a smile. “Did you like that? I gave Red my number and I was thinking I should have an opening line for when she calls."

“Red is not calling you,” Cartman said. “She hates your guts.” He licked the butter off his fingers.

“There's a thin line between love and hate,” Kenny said, “and you're a walking health code violation.”

“Kenny,” Butters said, “d'you mind takin' a look at something in the bathroom for me?” Cartman held up a hand.

“The grown-ups are talking,” Cartman said. “I'll bet you ten bucks Red doesn't even text you.”

“I'll take that bet,” Kenny said. His phone buzzed. “Speak of the sexy devil!” His face fell. “False alarm. It's just Stan.” He scanned the text. “Anybody know what college Kyle wants to go to?”

“Stanford,” Cartman said, sinking his hand back into the popcorn machine.

“If I were a better manager I'd fire you.” Kenny shook his head. “What's up with the bathroom?”

Butters pointed to the water flowing out from beneath the door to the ladies's room.

“Oh fuck!” Kenny said. “Cartman, man the refreshments.” Cartman gave Kenny a salute and watched him help Butters wheel the mop into the bathroom.

“Dumb blondes,” Cartman said. He poured himself a Coke and leaned back, surveying the lobby. The place was dead. They usually had some seniors come through for the Sunday evening shows, but the weather must have been keeping them in. Rain fell in sheets on the pavement outside. He sipped his drink and pulled out his pocket knife. Kenny didn't like him playing with it while on shift but judging by the cries of dismay coming from the bathroom Cartman figured he had some time. Besides, he needed to practice his fast open.

He'd almost been done carving his name in that boat when _Kyle_ had shown up in full confrontation mode. The Jew usually showed a little more self preservation when Cartman had his knife out. No such luck last night. Kyle had him pinned to that tree with the force of a wild animal. Cartman sucked on his straw intently.

The bell chimed as someone walked through the front door. Cartman plastered his customer service smile on his face, and let it fall immediately.

Kyle stood in the doorway, drenched, with a full Kohl's shopping bag in each hand. Water from his hair dripped down his face and onto the floor.

Speak of the sexy devil.

“What the hell happened to you?” Cartman said. His gaze lingered on the wet t-shirt sticking to Kyle's chest. “No umbrellas in Auschwitz?”

“Very funny,” Kyle said. He locked eyes with Cartman. Cartman shivered.

That _intensity_. The same kind from last night.

“Yeah,” Cartman said, “well, not everybody has a sense of humor. Meeting someone?”

“Not really.”

“Stalking me then?”

A muscle in Kyle’s jaw twitched. Cartman grinned, blood pumping.

“Where’s Kenny?” Kyle said. On cue, Kenny burst out of the bathroom, waving a plunger like a battle sword.

“Another job well done,” he said proudly. “The next lady to take a shit in there should thank me personally.” His mouth fell open. “Kyle? What are you doing here? You’re soaking wet!”

“I'm aware,” Kyle said.

“He had to catch the BOGO sale on tampons,” Cartman said.

“They don't sell tampons at Kohl's, idiot,” Kyle said. He shut his eyes and gripped his bags so tight his knuckles turned white.

“We got it!” Butters said, appearing behind Kenny. He tore off his rubber gloves and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Oh, hey Kyle!”

“Can I talk to you in private, Kenny?” Kyle said.

“Good idea,” Kenny said. He grabbed Kyle by the arm and pulled him toward an empty theater. Cartman watched them go and rubbed his chin.

“Poor Kyle,” Butters said. “He sick or somethin'?”

“Butters,” Cartman said, “you have the key to the projection booth for theater 4, right?”

“Well, sure, Eric,” Butters said. He pulled out the bulky keyring. “But I'm only allowed to go up there when--” Cartman snatched it out of Butters's hands.

“Don't worry, it's an emergency,” Cartman said, and hurried toward the projection booth.

He locked the door behind him and peered out of the booth onto the theater. Like he'd expected, Kenny had Kyle walk to his favorite spot at the top of the theater and sit in the nosebleed seats, right beneath the booth. Perfect. Cartman smirked and strained to hear what they were saying.

“...doesn't make any sense, Kenny,” Kyle said. “I've never felt like this before in my life. Did you know Taylor Swift's perfume line is only ten dollars at Kohl's?”

“I know it sucks,” Kenny said, “but we're working on it. Stan and Bebe are doing research right now. When my shift's over, we'll go join them.”

“You don't understand,” Kyle said. “I didn't know I _could_ feel like this. This is-- I can't even control this. I was this close to--” Kenny put a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay,” Kenny said, “okay. Let's get you out of here. I'll put in for sick time. You shouldn't be around him.” He nudged a Kohl's bag with his foot. “And maybe let's return these, too.”

Cartman chewed on the inside of his cheek and craned his neck to see better.

As if sensing something in the air, Kyle's shoulders tensed and he twisted around to look at the booth. Their eyes met and Cartman froze. Kyle held his gaze and clenched his jaw so tight it was a wonder his teeth didn't crack. Then he stood up and turned to Kenny.

“I need fresh air,” he said.

Kyle marched out of the theater, Kenny on his tail, leaving Cartman alone in the booth. 

He took a moment to catch his breath before stepping back out into the hallway. 

 

* * *

 

 

It had been an hour and fourteen minutes since the last time he saw Cartman.

Kyle tugged at his hair and looked around the table. He, Stan, and Kenny had congregated at Bebe's house and now sat together in the basement passing her notes around. Her parents were away for the night visiting her mother's mother at Shady Acres. Kyle looked around; it was the first time he'd had been here sober.

“We found some good info,” Bebe said, “but first--” She fished around in her backpack and pulled out Kyle's baby spoon, placing it on the table. “That belongs to you. And I realized I never said it, so. Sorry, Ky.”

Kyle picked up the spoon and turned it over in his hand. Who knew such a little thing would turn into such a big pain in his ass?

“I almost don't want it back,” Kyle said, “but thanks, Bebe.” Bebe cleared her throat.

“And I need to ask you a couple questions,” she said.

“About?” Kyle said.

“About Cartman,” Bebe said, “and how you feel about him.”

“Sex questions?” Kenny said.

“Pretty much,” Bebe said.

“Is that really necessary?” Stan said. “No offense, but I don't want to hear it. I don't think Kyle wants to talk about it either.”

“It's for his own good, Stan,” Bebe said, “and I'd think, as his BFF, you'd want what's best for him.” Stan glared at her. “I need to know what kind of attraction you have for Cartman. Can you try to describe it?”

Kyle put a hand to his stomach.

“It's like a fire burning in my gut,” he said, “constantly. And when I see Cartman, it ignites something else in me, like starting an engine, and that drives me forward, closer to him. I can't stop it. I think about how he looks, how he talks, his body language, his smell. I just want to be near him. He's so smart, and he's so funny.” Kyle laughed. “Like, just a week ago, we were talking about Westworld, and he made this hilarious joke about Anthony Hopkins--”

Kyle realized what he was saying and clamped his mouth shut. He glanced up at Bebe. She was looking at him like he was a bug under a microscope.

“Okay,” Bebe said, “so. It's definitely romantic. Is it sexual, too? For example, would you get turned on if you and Cartman were on a beach in Hawaii, and Cartman wanted you to put his sunscreen--”

“Yes,” Kyle said loudly, “thank you, Bebe, I know what sexual means.” Heat crept up his face. “And yes. It is sexual.” Stan stared at the table, mortified.

“So this will tell us what kind of antidote we need?” Kenny said.

“I'm not sure,” Bebe said. “I spent a lot of time reading a lot of different books, and yes, some were fake as hell, but some looked legit. None of them mentioned the recipe on Madame Amour's website.” She flipped through her notes. “A few mentioned the ingredients I used, but the big difference is the Very Important Object. I didn't see that anywhere. And the potions I read about can only enhance attraction, not create it. Plus, they can only enhance one kind of attraction. What I can't figure out, is how my potion made Kyle fall in love with Cartman romantically and sexually.”

“Do we really care about the theory?” Stan said. “Shouldn't we just start trying antidotes?”

“We don't know how that would affect him,” Bebe said. “We could be playing with fire.”

“Anybody else feel like they stepped into an episode of Bebe Stevens, M.D.?” Kenny said.

Kyle drummed his fingers on the table as Stan and Bebe bickered. His phone buzzed. He snuck a peek at it in his lap.

One new text from ' fatass fuck' .

Kyle gripped the edge of his chair and opened the message.

_hey joo_

Kyle glanced around the table. Bebe was still explaining her research, Kenny nodding along, Stan looking miffed.

**What do you want** , he typed back. The response came instantly.

_wow what a fast reply miss me that much :P_

The fire in Kyle's gut burned higher. He did miss Cartman. God, what a shit-show.

**In your dreams**

_whyd u show at bijou_

Great question. One Kyle had posed to his conscience as soon as he'd walked out of the cinema. He barely remembered getting himself there. It was like he'd been drunk, or stuck in a hazy dream about how cute Cartman looked when he was trying to talk his way out of something.

**I was there to see Kenny** , he typed instead.

_ok thats bullshit tho_

_heard u talking in the theater_

**You're such a creep**

Kyle bit his lip.

**What did you hear**

_enuff_

_we should talk about it_

_ my house tmrw after school _

Stan put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped.

“Did you hear what she said?” Stan said. He peered at Kyle's phone. “Who are you texting?”

Kyle stuck his phone back in his pocket.

“Nobody,” he said. “My mom. What did you say?” Bebe beamed at him.

“Great news,” she said. “I just got a message from Madame Amour. She asked if we can meet her at a Starbucks outside Denver Thursday night.” Kyle balked.

“Thursday night?” he said. “That's four days away! I can't be like this for four more days! I have to go to school! Did you tell her it was urgent?”

“Of course I did!” Bebe said. “That's the earliest she can meet. She has work every other night. I guess witchcraft doesn't pay the bills.”

“Kyle, if I were you,” Kenny said, “I'd stay home from school this week.”

“Are you kidding?” Kyle said. “I can handle being in the same building as him!”

“Kyle showed up at Bijou today with $200 worth of Cartman's perfume,” Kenny said.

“Ken!” Kyle said.

“Jesus,” Bebe said. “What was the idea behind that?”

“There wasn't one,” Kyle said. “It just happened. I won't make the same mistake twice. Those bags were extremely heavy.” Stan looked like he might vomit.

“I'm with Kenny,” he said. “You and Cartman need to stay away from each other. The less interaction the better.”

Kyle looked at Bebe, Stan, and Kenny. He felt his phone burning a hole in his pocket, Cartman's text left unanswered.

“Fine,” Kyle said. “I'll fake sick.” His friends sighed in relief. Stan smiled, reassured.

They started chatting about their research again. Kyle slid his phone out and hid it under the table. He typed a message out to Cartman:

**I'll be there**

 


	3. Singapore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cartman can't help sticking his nose where it doesn't belong and Kyle gets a little stir-crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for sticking with me. I've been going through a lot of life changes recently, so this chapter took a bit longer than expected. Future chapters will most likely be the same. I'll do my best! Please enjoy chapter three. :)

Driving to school with Stan was a sacred ritual Kenny had taken for granted lately. Stan usually picked him up at a quarter to eight. Kenny would put his feet up on the dash, pull his hood over his eyes, and try to wring another five minutes of sleep out of the morning, while Stan sipped his black coffee and played his music over the radio. With all the Kyle bullshit going on, Kenny was looking forward to that peace and quiet now more than ever.

So of course Stan had to have an emotional breakdown as soon as they pulled out of the driveway.

“Bebe said something yesterday,” Stan was saying, “when we were researching possible antidotes.”

Kenny peeked into the glovebox in case Stan was hiding any cigs. No dice.

“I don't think she wasn't serious. But it got me thinking.” Stan cleared his throat. “I have a theory on why the love potion worked on Kyle.”

“You're talking like this is life or death,” Kenny sighed, accepting his fate. “Quit walking on eggshells and spill.”

“Do you think that Kyle could've had a crush on Cartman before he drank the potion?” Stan said.

Kenny eyes widened and he turned to Stan, who kept his gaze fixed on the road.

“Are you joking?” Kenny said. “We're talking about the same Kyle here, right?”

“I'm just saying,” Stan said, “if you look at the research, it would add up.”

“Dude,” Kenny said, “are you hearing yourself?” Stan looked uncomfortable. “Who cares what the 'research' says? You know Kyle better than that.”

“Do I?” Stan said. He gripped the steering wheel. “We barely see each other. When we hang out, it's always in groups. I spend more time alone with you, for chrissakes. Maybe he's been keeping some kind of secret book of love poems about Cartman since sixth grade, or watching him sleep at night or--”

“You're letting Bebe get to you,” Kenny said. “Chill. She just likes to run her mouth." He ran his hands down his face. "Can we try not to start any more drama until we get this Harry Potter shit out of the way?” Stan took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said, “yeah, you're right. You're right. Maybe I should just ask Kyle.”

“No,” Kenny said. “That's literally the worst possible thing to do. Kyle's not himself right now. You're won't get a real answer from him when he's like this. I'm gonna need you to take all your Kyle anxiety and shove it in the back of your mind and keep it there until we get him the right antidote. Okay?” Stan bit his lip. “I'm looking for a verbal confirmation here.”

“Okay,” Stan said reluctantly.

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

They pulled into the school parking lot and Stan cut the engine. Kenny studied him and touched his shoulder.

“Hey,” Kenny said. Stan looked up. Kenny held out his fist. “We got this. Bump it.”

They bumped fists and Stan smiled. It didn't reach his eyes, but Kenny would take what he got. This kind of drama was exactly why he preferred to keep his mouth shut and stay out of Stan and Kyle's troubled bromance.

They climbed out of Stan's car and Kenny spotted Cartman two cars down. He was smoking a cigarette, leaning up against the side of his beat-up Honda Civic with the shitty racing stripe down the side (that Kenny had painted last summer). Cartman spotted them and grinned, tossing his cig on the ground and crushing it beneath his heel.

“Sup guys,” Cartman said, walking toward them. He leered into the backseat of Stan's car.

“Kyle's not with us,” Stan said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Who said I was looking for him?” Cartman said.

“Good one,” Kenny said. “Let me bum a cig, fatboy.”

If the ride to school was rough, the morning was even worse. Cartman couldn't stop fidgeting. His incessant foot tapping kept Kenny from getting some much-needed shut-eye in first period math class. In gym Cartman even tried to keep up with Stan and Kenny as they ran around the track.

“Where is the Jew, anyway?” Cartman said, panting. “He never misses school.”

“Slow down or you'll have a fucking heart attack,” Kenny said. Cartman gave him a dirty look but didn't have the energy to flip him off.

“He texted me he had a cold,” Stan said.

“What, are we talking,” Cartman wheezed, “like, common cold, or more puking-his-brains-out?”

“Didn't ask,” Stan said. He picked up the pace and Kenny followed suit, leaving Cartman in the dust. Cartman tried to speed up and fell on his face. Butters walked him to the nurse's office.

At lunch, Kenny, Stan and Bebe sat at a table together and ran over Bebe's notes one more time. It didn't do them any good. They still had no leads. Bebe threw her hands up.

“I say we just observe Kyle until Thursday,” she said. “Bottom line is we don't have enough info to tell what's really going on.”

“Stan has a theory,” Kenny said.

“Ken,” Stan said. Kenny put his hands behind his head.

“We're all in this together. I'm just trying to keep the lines of communication open,” he said. “Stan thinks Kyle had a thing for Cartman before the potion.” Bebe smirked at Stan with a wicked light in her eyes.

“Oh really?” she said.

“No, not really,” Stan said, glaring at Kenny. “I was just being stupid.”

“How unlike you,” Bebe said.

“He said you brought it up,” Kenny said.

“It was a joke,” Bebe said. “Didn't think it'd get to you so badly.”

“You shat on my friendship with Kyle,” Stan said, offended, “of course it got to me.”

“He's more sensitive than he lets on,” Kenny whispered to Bebe.

“Must be pretty fucking sensitive,” Bebe said.

"But do you think it could be true?" Stan asked. He was serious. Kenny and Bebe went quiet. "Leave no stone unturned, right? Maybe... we should at least consider it."

Cartman slapped his lunch tray on the table and all three of them jumped. He sat down with a huff. He had a bandage over his nose from falling on the track.

“Thanks for waiting for me after gym, assholes,” he said, glaring. He jerked his thumb at Bebe. “And what's _she_ doing here? We have a no-chicks-at-lunch policy, remember?"

“You made that up,” Kenny said. “I voted for a strict yes-chicks policy.”

“It's a free country,” Bebe said, inspecting her nails.

“Cut the shit, okay? Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on,” Cartman said. “Why is Bebe sitting with us? Why is Kyle acting like a psycho?” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Staying home from school isn't acting like a psycho,” he said.

“Let me guess, neither is traipsing through a monsoon to creep me out at work, right?” Cartman said.

“He came to Bijou to see me, dumbass,” Kenny said.

“I'm not stupid,” Cartman said. Bebe laughed. “I know a revenge plot when I see one.”

“What are you talking about?” Stan said, voice tired.

“First Kyle goes apeshit on me on Saturday,” Cartman said, “then he buys boatloads of my cologne? Come on. I've seen Carrie!”

“You think he's gonna dump gallons of perfume on you at prom?” Kenny said. He tapped his chin. “That's not a bad idea. I could get behind that.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bebe said, “you guys put up with this?” She looked at Cartman. “Can you please fuck off? We're having a private conversation.”

Cartman fumed.

“Fuck you, Bebe,” he said. “I don't know how you're involved, but I _will_ find out and hold you accountable. And screw you guys!” He grabbed his tray and stuck his nose in the air. “I'm sitting by myself.” He marched across the cafeteria and barked at some freshmen who quickly gave up their table.

“Wow. Maybe you should sit with us more often, Bebe,” Stan said. Bebe flipped her hair proudly. Kenny sighed.

“I'll be right back,” he said. “I'm gonna go talk to Cartman.”

“Why?” Stan said. “We just got rid of him.” Kenny held up a finger.

“One sec,” he said, and walked to Cartman's table. Cartman was stabbing his meatloaf with more force than necessary.

“Hey,” Kenny said.

“Come to mock me?” Cartman said.

“I know it's a tall order for you but try not to be so dramatic,” Kenny said, sliding in to the seat beside him. Cartman huffed and stared at an unlucky spot on the table. “Remember that convo we had, oh, maybe six months ago?” Cartman tensed. “That night you stayed over my house? And we drank my dad's booze? And you said--”

“I remember what I said,” Cartman hissed. His cheeks colored. “And I remember _you_ promising you wouldn't repeat it.”

“I didn't tell anyone,” Kenny said. “I'm just saying, I know you care about Kyle. Now's the time to show it. Just stay off his case for a while.”

“I never said I care about him,” Cartman said.

“Hmm,” Kenny said. “How did your monologue go? 'When I look at Kyle, it's like a fire burning in my gut',” he pretended to swoon, “'he _ignites_ something in me, like starting an engine, and--'”

Kenny paused. Hadn't he heard that somewhere before? Cartman turned bright red and shook his fork at Kenny.

“You better shut your mouth,” Cartman said, “or I'm shoving this plastic fork down your piehole. And if you know what's good for you, _pray_ I take mercy on your ass when I get to the bottom of this!"

 

* * *

 

Kyle was falling apart.

He'd barely slept again last night. It hadn't been hard to convince his mom he was coming down with something when he looked the part. With his parents at work and Ike at school, he'd been left to his own devices.

He knew he wasn't supposed to be in contact with Cartman. That was the whole point of staying home. But it was like he kept _forgetting_. He couldn't stop himself from staring at their last text convo. It took all of Kyle's willpower not to shoot off some inane comment just to get a reaction out of him. He felt like he was going through withdrawal. He kept thinking about Cartman and having to stand in front of the open fridge to stop himself from overheating. Stan texted him multiple times to check in but Kyle couldn't bring himself to respond.

He'd tried everything to keep his mind off Cartman. Intellectually, he knew what he was feeling wasn't real. But he'd never been good at fighting his impulses. He tried journaling, but that turned into vigorous descriptions of engaging in certain... activities with Cartman, and in one case an explicit drawing. He checked the clock constantly and spent the last hour before school let out primping in front of the mirror as he swore he wasn't _actually_ going over to Cartman's house.

 **I'll be there**

He'd given Cartman the affirmative in a moment of weakness. He regretted that now. Didn't he? It was hard to remember why he should. He could always just go to Cartman's house, hang out with him like normal. He was a big boy. He could restrain himself. He didn't have to sit next to Cartman on the couch, or touch his knee, or lay him down on the cushions, or kiss his-- 

Kyle slapped himself across the face. Focus. He wasn't going to Cartman's house. Could an alcoholic just stroll through a liquor store? No. He had to treat this seriously. Stan, Kenny and Bebe were right. He couldn't trust himself right now. 

His phone buzzed. Kyle launched himself across the room to where it lay on the couch.

One new message from 'fatass fuck'.

_heading home now_

_dont puss out ;)_

Kyle immediately slipped his sneakers on and flew to the front door.

As soon as he opened it, he came face-to-face with Stan, hand raised, about to knock on the door. God _dammit_.

“Kyle,” Stan said, taken aback. “What's up, dude?”

“Uh, hi," Kyle said.

“You going somewhere?” Stan said.

“I've been stuck inside all day,” Kyle said. “Thought I'd get some fresh air. Take a walk.” Stan looked him up and down. 

“It's a little cold out,” he said. Kyle realized he hadn't bothered to put his jacket on. Shit.

“I'll jog,” Kyle said.

“Great,” Stan said, “I'll come with you.” 

“Why?” Kyle said. Stan frowned.

“Uh, 'cause I'm your friend, duh,” he said. “We haven't talked in a while. I wanna know what's going on with you.”

“You know what's going on with me,” Kyle said. He was getting frustrated. “The whole love potion thing?”

“I know,” Stan said, “but besides that.” He laughed but it didn't quite ring true. “Geez, do I need a reason to hang out with my best friend?” Kyle sighed.

“Look, Stan,” he said, “I don't have the emotional capacity to deal with this right now.” Stan blinked.

“Deal with what?” he said.

“Every year or so you do this,” Kyle said. “You come over, all excited to be my very best friend. We hang out for a few weeks, then you start making up all these reasons why you can't hang out that night. Or the next night. Or that weekend, 'cause it's your and Wendy's half-anniversary and you just _have_ to take her out that night.”

“I don't do that,” Stan said. He looked guilty. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Kyle said, “you do. And I'm opting out this time. Come see me if you guys make any headway on the antidote.”

With that, Kyle left Stan on the stoop, speechless, and walked down the street.

Kyle needed to see Cartman, Cartman, _Cartman_. That was all. Not Bebe, not Kenny, and definitely not Stan. He could feel Cartman's energy radiating from his house, essence of Cartman pouring out of his bedroom. Kyle's palms were sweating in anticipation. He practically broke into a sprint as he neared the front door. When he reached it, he went to push the doorbell, hesitated.

Why was he hesitating? He wanted to see Cartman. He was _aching_ to see him.

“Hey, Jew,” Cartman said from behind him. Kyle spun around to see Cartman standing nearby, grinning. “You don't look too sick to me.”

“I'm not sick,” Kyle said. Cartman raised an eyebrow.

“Oookay,” he said. He pushed past Kyle to unlock his front door. Kyle held his breath as Cartman's shoulder brushed his. Cartman held the door open for him. “After Jew.”

“Thanks,” Kyle said dreamily. Cartman stared at him. “Oh. I mean, fuck you.”

He stepped into Cartman's living room and thought he might faint. He hadn't been here since he'd had the potion. It was so... _Cartman_. His sweatshirt laid over the back of the couch. His baby pictures on the wall.

Cartman closed the door behind him.

“So,” Cartman said, “you actually showed.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Of course you did. After I figured out your evil scheme, what choice did you have?”

He looked so pleased with himself. It would've pissed Kyle off if he didn't look so cute with that sneer on his face.

“Remind me again what my evil scheme is?” Kyle said.

“Don't play dumb,” Cartman said, walking toward him. “I know you're planning to humiliate me in front of the entire school. With the perfume.” He faltered. “Quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Kyle said. He was staring at Cartman so fiercely his eyes were burning. He couldn't bring himself to blink.

“Jesus Christ,” Cartman said, “stop.” But he didn't break eye contact. For a moment they watched each other.

“I'm not going to humiliate you, Cartman,” Kyle said.

“I'm pretty sure you are,” Cartman said. Kyle took a step toward him and Cartman blanched, falling back against the wall.

“I'm not,” Kyle said. He was running on autopilot now. Going on instinct. He only had one thought in his mind: Cartman. “I came here to tell you something.” He put a hand on the wall beside Cartman's head.

“Um,” Cartman said.

“I'm in love with you,” Kyle said. Cartman's jaw dropped.

“What,” he said. Kyle leaned forward and smelled him. His stomach flipped.

“It's true,” Kyle said. “I love you. I can't stop thinking about you. I don't know what happened. All of a sudden, I just--”

Wait. What _did_ happen? Did he always feel like this about Cartman? Something was off.

Meanwhile, Cartman was shortcircuiting.

“I-- you-- uh, I--” Cartman said. Hearing his voice brought Kyle back to the moment. Nothing was off. This was perfect. All he wanted was to be around Cartman. In fact, there was only one thing that could make it any better.

“Let me kiss you,” Kyle breathed.

Just then Kenny and Stan burst through the front door. All four boys looked at each other. Then Stan charged at Kyle and tackled him to the ground.

“Oh shit!” Kenny said. Kyle thrashed under Stan's weight, eyes crazy.

“You can't keep us apart!” Kyle wailed. “Eric and I are meant for each other!”

“Little help, Ken?” Stan said, struggling to keep Kyle pinned. Kenny ran toward them and sat on Kyle's legs.

“What the fuck is going on?” Cartman yelled.

“Settle down, Kyle,” Stan said. He dodged Kyle's fist. “This is for your own good!” Kyle gritted his teeth and stopped thrashing, breathing heavy.

“Okay,” he said. “I'm calm. I'm calm. Let me up.” Kenny and Stan exchanged glances.

“You sure you'll behave?” Kenny said.

“Yes, I'm sure,” Kyle said sincerely. “Just let me up.” Kenny and Stan slowly climbed off Kyle. Kyle stood up, adjusting his clothes. Then he lunged for Cartman's hands and clasped them between his own.

“Eric,” he said, “let's get out of here, just you and me! They'll never accept us! We can move to Singapore, or--”

Someone smacked Kyle over the head with something heavy. Cartman stood there in shock. Kyle's legs crumpled beneath him and he fell to the ground, vision fading. In his last moments of consciousness, he looked for his attacker, and saw Bebe standing over him with a biology textbook in her hands.

“Sorry I'm late,” she said.

Then Kyle blacked out.


	4. Holographic-Tupac Level Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has truly become a farce but I laughed a lot while writing it. Might be editing this later. I'm pretty sure there's no glaring plotholes but I'm writing this as I go so no promises. Thanks for reading!

Cartman laced his fingers together and rested them on the kitchen table. He looked from Stan to Kenny to Bebe in turn, waiting for one of them to speak. Kenny whistled innocently. Cartman sighed.

“So you’re telling me,” Cartman said, “that, for all intents and purposes, Kyle’s hungry for my dick because Bebe performed forbidden sex-witch magic and I licked a spoon?”

Again, no one spoke. Bebe blew a bubble with her gum, popped it. Stan was really on the verge of puking this time; he’d gotten progressively greener throughout the recap.

“And the only way to cure it is for me to fuck him,” Cartman continued.

“It’s like the frog prince, but sluttier,” Kenny said. Stan gagged.

“That makes it sound way more fun that it really is,” Bebe said.

“Be real for a sec,” Cartman said, “are you guys fucking with me?”

“Is it really that hard to believe?” Kenny said. “Stranger things, right? Besides, look at Stan. Do you really think he could keep this up just for shits and giggles?”

“Do you have any Pepto Bismol?” Stan said, rubbing his stomach.

“Yeah,” Bebe said, “he can only hold his lunch down for more important things like protecting Kyle’s chastity.”

Cartman pursed his lips.

“I suppose,” he said. He raised an eyebrow at Kenny. Kenny winked. _All good, bro. I didn’t say shit about your undying love for the guy who now miraculously wants to fuck you, but I will if you act at all like this means you’re fated to be together and the world wants you to bang him. Because it doesn’t. Comprende?_

Cartman winked back ferociously. _Yeah, I fucking comprende._

“If you’re done making eyes at each other,” Bebe said, removing her gum and sticking it under the table, “can we take some action here? Kyle could wake up any second.”

They all turned to look toward the doorway to the living room. From here they could just see Kyle’s body slouched over in a kitchen chair, head hanging limp, turned to face the wall. His hands were zip-tied to the chair behind his back. Cartman bit his lip.

“Where the hell did you find zip-ties?” Kenny said.

“Cartman just _happened_ to have some on hand,” Stan said.

“Convenient, right?” Cartman said.

“We have three more days until we can meet Madame Amour and get answers,” Bebe said. “Kyle can’t be comatose until then. I propose we take shifts watching him.”

“What, all day?” Kenny said.

“At all times. _And_ we need to have someone watching Cartman.”

“Hell no,” Cartman said. “Why do I need a chaperone. I’m a big boy, god dammit!” He slammed a fist down on the table.

“Think of it like having a bodyguard,” Bebe said. “You know, like you’re the president and you need someone to help protect your _authority._ He’s still into _authority_ , right?” Stan’s shoulders sagged.

“Doesn’t this sound like a lot of work?” he said.

“Agreed,” Kenny said. “We can probably just wing it and it’ll be fine.”

“Okay, this is why you four,” she pointed at each of them as she spoke and jerked her thumb towards the living room, “are always getting into such deep shit. You can’t follow through on anything.”

Cartman saw an opportunity.

“Bebe doesn’t know how we operate,” Cartman whispered loudly. “Since when do we let her boss us around?”

“She has some good ideas,” Kenny said, looking at Bebe’s cleavage. Cartman rolled his eyes.

“Stan, come on,” Cartman said. “This is all Bebe’s fault to begin with. If you let her be in charge of damage control she’ll fuck it up even worse.”

Stan glanced at Bebe suspiciously. Simpleton.

“How either of you can trust anything Cartman says after over ten years of constant betrayal is really beyond my understanding,” Bebe said.

“Insulting you even now!” Cartman gasped. “I don’t think she’s a team player, you guys.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bebe said. She spread her hands out on the table. “Bottom line: if we don’t keep them separated, somebody is going to inappropriately touch somebody else and end up regretting it.” Stan winced.

“Let’s not talk about inappropriate touching please,” Stan said.

“Stan’s right,” Kenny said, “no need to beat around the bush. Cartman, don’t use this as the opportunity you need to finally get Kyle suck your balls.” Stan groaned in agony.

“Please,” Cartman said, “I value my life. I’m not fucking Kyle if he stabs me to death with the nearest pen the second after I cum on his face.”

Stan threw up on the table.

“Oh my god!” Bebe shrieked.

“Nice going, dude,” Kenny said to Cartman, who shrugged.

"Come on," Cartman said, "that was a group effort."

“Sorry, sorry,” Stan said. He scrambled to find the paper towels in Cartman’s pantry.

“This is such a shitshow,” Bebe said, and grabbed a notebook out of her backpack. She went to stand near the puke-free kitchen counter, ripped out a piece of paper, and scribbled a simple chart. Stan clumsily wiped up his vomit while Kenny sighed and patted his back.

“Here,” Bebe said, holding her chart in front of her. “Eight hour shifts, rotating. Kenny watches Cartman, Stan watches Kyle, I sleep. Then we switch.” Cartman scanned the paper, narrowing his eyes.

“How come you get to sleep first?” Cartman said. Bebe glared at him and grabbed the paper back. She put an X through the charts, and wrote **WATCHING CARTMAN MORNING, NOON, AND NIGHT: BEBE**.

A bead of sweat appeared on Cartman’s forehead.

“Let me see option one again?” he said.

Just then they heard the front door open. All four of them froze.

Kyle’s voice came from the living room.

“Miss Cartman! You look lovely this evening. May I ask permission for your son’s hand in marriage?”

* * *

Liane sat at the table across from Stan, Kenny, and Bebe. Cartman stood off to the side, staring at the ceiling and occasionally glancing into the living room. Kyle was awake now, fidgeting with his ties but unable to turn his head to look toward the kitchen. He had crooned something about Cartman’s perfectly curved eyebrows several times but otherwise remained silent. Now Cartman watched him fidget.

Liane laced her fingers together and placed them on the table. With her help the surface was now sparkling, free of upchuck. The kitchen smelled like lavender Febreze.

“Sweetie,” Liane said firmly, “I know Mr. Collins thinks we should form stronger boundaries when it comes to your sex life, but what did we say about zip-tie-ing people to the furniture?”

“Mr. Collins?” Bebe said.

“Our family therapist,” Liane said cheerfully. Cartman’s eye twitched.

“It isn’t sexual, _Mom_ ,” Cartman said.

“Oh, your little friend Kyle can be so aggressive,” Liane sighed, “I just don’t want him breaking the chair in the throes of passion.”

“Well, full disclosure, there is a sexual element to all this,” Kenny said.

“You could say the entire thing hinges on sexuality,” Bebe agreed.

“Can we stop saying ‘sexuality’?” Stan pleaded. “I really don’t want to throw up again.”

“Mom, just leave us alone!” Cartman said. He threw his hands up in a big X. “Boundary formation! I am forming a boundary!”

“You don’t want me to put out a plate of cookies for you and your friends, sweetie?” Liane said. “I can cut Kyle’s zip-ties so he can join you—“

“Just leave the cookies and go! We have important bubbling cauldron shit to deal with!”

Liane brightened.

“Oh, poopsiekins, did you finally read the book I bought you for your birthday?” Liane said. “You know, witchcraft is a great source of passive income. Mommy gets an average of $500 in ad revenue a month from my blogspot.”

Stan, Kenny and Bebe looked at each other. Cartman buried his face in his hands and wept, realization sinking in.

“I’m sorry,” Stan said, “Liane, do _you_ practice witchcraft?”

“Well kids, I do like to keep it on the _down-low_ as they say, but I’ve dabbled,” Liane said. “It’s an awful lot of fun and I get to keep using my stage name.”

“Madame Amour?” Bebe said slowly. Liane tsk’ed and wagged her finger.

“Naughty girl!” Liane said. “Someone’s been browsing through my burlesque catalogue.”

They all sat in stunned silence as Liane retrieved a two-thousand page text from her bedroom and plopped it on the table. **THE JOY OF BREWING DEMONIC ELIXIRS** blazed on the cover in elaborate, blood-red script; the whole thing emanated a truly menacing aura. Liane hummed the tune to “My Favorite Things” from Sound of Music and flipped the book open. She dragged her French-manicured nail down the table of contents, throwing black sparks like devilish flint against steel.

“Liane,” Kenny said, “did you promise to meet four high school kids at a Starbucks outside Denver on Thursday?”

Liane blinked slowly. She glanced at Kyle in the living room. Her finger was paused on _Particularly Potent Potions for Perversion_. Cartman had turned bright red and was biting down on his thumb so hard he drew blood.

“Maybe you kids should start from the beginning,” Liane said.

Bebe and Kenny recounted the situation in vivid detail while Stan, overwhelmed, stepped outside for a cigarette. Liane nodded and hummed at the appropriate points, and by the end of it Bebe’s eyes were shining in admiration.

“A real bonafide witch,” Bebe breathed. “Liane, do you take apprentices?”

“Not now, Bebe,” Kenny said. “We have other priorities.” Liane fanned herself, flattered.

“Oh my,” she said, “well, I’ve already got one student, but if you don’t mind a group session with Henrietta...”

Cartman had been so uncharacteristically silent that they had nearly forgotten about him. He watched Stan light another cigarette through the back window. Bebe and Liane were rapidly devolving into a discussion on which night would be best for a weekly one-hour lesson while Kenny tried to redirect their attention in vain. Cartman stood up quietly and tiptoed into the living room unnoticed.

Immediately the hair on the back of Kyle’s neck stood up.

“Eric,” he said.

“Yeah it’s me,” Cartman said. He crossed his arms tightly. “Don’t bust a nut over it.”

“Please,” Kyle said. “I have a modicum of self control left.” But his voice wavered. Cartman approached the chair.

“Don’t come any closer,” Kyle said. Cartman paused mid-step.

“What, don’t want me to see your massive boner over getting tied up by me?” he said. Kyle squirmed.

“I would like to…” Kyle said, “invoke the fifth.” He craned his neck, unable to see Cartman. “Don't you think I should be involved in your secret kitchen meeting? I mean, it’s my body we’re making decisions about here.” He pulled on his restraints. “And this is just degrading.”

“Invoking the fifth means you have the right to remain silent,” Cartman said, “so just shut the fuck up.”

“It means I have the right to not incriminate myself, dumbass,” Kyle said.

“Yeah,” Cartman said, “so by invoking it, you basically admit you’re guilty, boner boy. Such sad, silly games we play.”

“Can you just fucking untie me? This position is making my neck cramp up.”

Sounded like the usual Kyle. Cartman looked at him in the chair for a moment. He watched chills run through Kyle’s body, a shiver creep up his spine.

“I kinda feel like I should keep my distance,” Cartman said, “considering you’re a total horn dog for me at the moment.”

“I am not a horn dog for you,” Kyle said. He sighed and his voice went up an octave. “What I feel is much purer than that, beautiful and enduring and of course sexual but still—“

“Stop, stop,” Cartman said, “that’s... disgusting.” He shuddered. “Yeesh. They should have let me put duct tape over your mouth.”

“Zip-ties and duct tape,” Kyle said. “Hmm.”

“What.”

“Funny that you have both,” Kyle said, “and want to use them on me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Cartman said. The energy in the room was shifting.

“And?” Kyle said. “Usually you’d follow that up with a marginally clever retort.” Cartman watched him flex his bound wrists. “Am I making you nervous?”

“You’re the one who should be nervous,” Cartman said. “All tied up in _my_ living room. Power dynamics are pretty clear here.” He swallowed and kept his eyes on Kyle’s back.

“Guess you’re right,” Kyle said. “You could do anything you wanted to me.” Cartman stared. Kyle paused.

“Oh,” Kyle said, “or you want me to tell _you_ what to do?” He yanked a little harder on his restraints. “I can do that. Actually, I’d prefer it. This potion has mostly just made me delirious but it’s also brought up a lot of repressed thoughts and I’m kind of reconciling the idea of wanting to hurt you with also wanting to fuck you and it’s coming together in one big melting pot of confused emotions.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cartman said, wiping sweat from his brow, “you really like the sound of your own fucking voice.”

“Cartman?”

Cartman turned to see Kenny, Bebe, and Liane standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hey guys,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Please get him out of here,” Kyle moaned desperately. “I’m blinking in and out of consciousness and have no idea what I’m saying. But don’t take him too far away? Like, keep him close enough that I can still smell his pheromones?”

“Actually Kyle,” Bebe said, “we’re bringing you in for this.”

Kenny dragged Kyle chair-and-all into the kitchen, and Kenny and Bebe pulled their chairs in around him to form an anti-Cartman shield. Cartman gave Kenny a look, and received another meaningful wink. This one communicated _Sorry, things are about to take a bad turn, but just remember I was a total bro and kept my mouth shut for as long as humanly possible._ Cartman grit his teeth.

They called Stan in from outside. He sat down beside Bebe and stuck his nose up at the sight of Kyle in the most childish _I’m-mad-at-you_ gesture Cartman had ever seen, made doubly embarrassing by the fact that Kyle was staring unblinkingly at Cartman, completely oblivious. Cartman took up his previous spot leaning on the counter.

Bebe straightened her notes and cleared her throat, face pale.

“Madame Amour has illuminated some elements of the potion that had previously escaped my notice,” she said.

“Though not for lack of trying,” Liane said. “Bebe has real potential!”

“Stop the circle jerk and get on with it,” Cartman said.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Bebe said, passing each person a piece of paper, “please refer to the original chant I spoke while brewing the potion, which, according to our expert here, is meant to be taken as very, er, literal.”

They turned their attention to the chant.

 _My love for you burns like a fire_  
_This spell, to help you feel desire_  
_Your heart to mirror mine entire_  
_Both flame as one, burn higher, higher!_

“Should we get a fire extinguisher?” Stan said, alarmed.

“Not that part, dumbass,” Kenny said.

“This potion,” Bebe said, “is only effective if the person brewing it has real, actual feelings for the person who drinks it.”

“So you wanna fuck Kyle,” Cartman said, “big whoop.”

“Cartman,” Kenny said, “ _your_ essence is the one in the potion.”

Stan’s jaw dropped.

“And the significance of that is…?” Cartman said.

“Enough dude,” Kenny hissed, “the cat’s out of the bag.”

Cartman examined everyone around the table. Bebe and Kenny glanced at each other. Liane summoned a ginger ale from out of thin air and placed it in front of Stan in case of sudden nausea.

Kyle was in serious danger of breaking his own hands trying to pull out of the zip-ties.

“You feel like _this_ ,” Kyle said, “about _me?_ ”

Cartman reached across the table, grabbed Stan’s ginger ale, and knocked it back in two gulps. His throat burned.

“I would like to invoke the fifth,” Cartman rasped.

“Is that…” Stan said, “that can’t be…”

“No,” Kyle said, “no, I think Liane’s right.” A crease appeared at his brow. “Since I woke up an hour ago, I’ve had an overwhelming urge to express my feelings for Eric through a well-choreographed song and dance number.”

“Then what other explanation is there?” Kenny said. Bebe mouthed ‘ _Eric’_ and wrinkled her nose.

“Come on, that doesn’t mean anything,” Cartman said. “Stan gives a faggy musical performance once every other week. How do we know _my_ heart’s the one Kyle’s mirroring?”

“Kyle,” Bebe said, “when you say song and dance, are you picturing something like an acoustic three-chord ballad about why we should consider participating in Meatless Mondays--”

“Hey!” Stan said.

“--or more like that time you bet Cartman he was a certifiable sociopath, so he went through rigorous psychological testing to prove you wrong, and announced his diagnosis by shooting fireworks that spelled out HISTRIONIC PERSONALITY DISORDER above the football field while singing Katy Perry?”

“The second one,” Kyle said.

“Okay, well,” Cartman said, sweating, “when I’m in love with someone I don’t try to force them to elope with me to backwater Asian countries.”

“Don’t tell me you weren’t considering accepting,” Kyle said.

“I’d rather have Butters take an axe to my dick,” Cartman spat. Kyle’s face twisted into genuine sadness. Fascinating and disturbing.

“Well, there’s one main complication,” Liane said. “Bebe put your essence into the potion immediately after brewing it, rather than stirring it and then adding the final ingredient. Which means the potency was probably doubled.”

Bebe choked out a sob.

“God, I’m a hack!” she wailed, burying her face in her hands. Liane rubbed her back.

“Oh, it’s okay honey, you’re still learning.”

“No, it’s not okay!” Cartman said. “This is so unfair! Sabrina the Teenage Bitch just outed me! I had holographic-Tupac level shit planned for that announcement! Seriously homophobic, Bebe!”

“Eric,” Kyle said, frothing at the mouth, “I would literally die for you.” He yanked so hard at his zip-ties that the spindles on the back of the chair snapped in half and he stood up, ready to lunge across the table. Blood rushed from Cartman’s face all the way down to his crotch in record time.

Kyle’s legs were too stiff for him to make a move before Kenny could grab him around the waist.

“Bebe,” Kenny said, “the book!”

“Do _not_ hit me again,” Kyle growled.

“Then you need to sit and behave while we come up with a solution,” Bebe said, poised to strike with **DEMONIC ELIXIRS**.

Kyle watched her like a cornered animal but sat down again.

“Okay,” Liane said serenely, “let’s get started on that antidote.”


End file.
